Black Flower
by Lady Jueglerr
Summary: Harry Potter disappeared fifteen years ago, never to be found again. What will happen to the wizarding world when a Harry with an unexpected backround comes into the picture? DMHP


**Okay. First off, this story is written in many points of view, all at once. That is just how I write. But, most of the time, the story will stay in one POV for at least a few paragraphs. **

**Secondly, this story will eventually have original Harry Potter characters in it. But for now, there is only my OC's(Sort of...). It will be quite confusing for awhile, but everything will eventually play out. I am still working on my writing abilities, and I have found that starting a story is probably the most difficult part for me. So just hang in there!**

**P.S. THIS WILL BE SLASH. WITH PRIOR MENTIONS OF MPREG. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I only own the original plot, and any characters that are unreconizable from Rowling's Harry Potter Universe. Everything else is Copyright to J.K. Rowling and her affiliates.**

**_Chapter One_**

"David! Dav-"

"He's not here, Braden," the fifteen year old smirked as the old man before him accostomed an expression of embarressment.

"What do you mean he's not here? He told me that he would be here," the man's aged face now took on an expression of despair. "Dawson, please I have to speak with your father! I have to-"

"Braden, calm down. Whatever it is, I'm sure that I can handle it." The teenager forced his face to form a warm smile, but his bright green eyes twinkled with amusement.

"I really don't think that would be appropriate, the package that I'm delivering must be given to him personally-"

"Did David say this? Did my father tell you that I couldn't take the package?" Dawson smirked as the man thought for a moment, and then blushed.

"No, actually he said that you could take the package. I'm sorry, Dawson, for doubting you, I just forgot." The old man blushed harder.

"That's quite alright, Braden. Now, where is this package of yours?" Dawson inquired, rising. The boy was tall for his age, standing at six feet and four inches tall. He wore a silken red dress shirt paired with black jeans. He had an extremely slight build, but he was not underweight. He had soft black hair that he wore back in a ponytail that reached past his arse in length. The hair that could not be pulled back fell gracefully around his effemminite face. His large green eyes were bright pools of dazzling perfection. In contrast with his eyes, Dawson's skin was amazingly pale, though this just fed his loveliness. The boy's nose was perfectly centered on his face, sized just right. His full pink lips were envied by every female that laid ever their eyes on him. All and all, Dawson was the quintessence of absolute beauty.

Braden felt his breath catch as the teenager found his way around the counter and came to stand beside him. The old man shook his head. The child was just too gorgeous for words. "Well, to tell you the truth, my delivery can't really be called a package. I'm sure that it will please you though," Braden smiled.

The edges of Dawson's mouth quirked. It had always amused him how Braden could transform from an emotional mess to a perfect buisnessman in a matter of seconds.

"The package is in my van. I'll be back momentarily, there is no reason for a child to be outside at this time of night," and with that, Braden nodded to Dawson before turning and walking, or gracefully waddling really, with the man's bad leg and all, from the pawn shop.

Dawson scowled at the man's back. He knew perfectly well that he wasn't permitted to be outside after dark when he was not in his father's presence. The man seemed to believe that he would be mugged as soon as he walked out the door. In a few moments, though, the boy's scowl faded, and was replaced with a soft smile. Now was not the time to bring up this subject, even if only in his mind. He had buisness to do.

Dawson's soft smile was replaced with a large grin as he thought of the man that he was waiting for to return. The man really was a piece of work. He was nearly eighty, yet he still continued being a black market trader. And, to most people's surprise, he was still a damn good negotiater, too. The elderly man was the only person, including David, than could ever almost, _almost_ put Dawson out of his comfort zone when talking buisness.

Even so, the man was still out of his mind, in at least one sense. He had the money to spend thousands on a wardrobe, but he still insisted on wearing brightly colored sweatpants and large tee-shirts- in every occasion that came to pass. Anywhere that the man went, from dinner at a friend's to his daily treks around London, the man could be found in the attire suitable for a bum. Dawson shook his head fondly, the white-haired senior was like family to him, like a grandfather almost. He was also a dear friend.

The bell that was clasped onto the pawn shop's door 'dinged' as Braden re-entered the shop. Dawson lifted his eyes, and they landed upon Braden's messy half-bald head. Dawson let them linger there for a moment before he lowered his eyes a bit to see what the old man had brought.

Dawson felt his eyes widen in shock as they fixed upon the two children standing in front of Braden. The children were looking twards the floor, but then with a small sniff, they both raised their heads. Their eyes widened as they saw him, getting larger and larger until Dawson was sure their eyes would pop out of their heads.

Even with their widened eyes,these children were the most beautiful beings he had ever seen in his life. They were twins, one female, and one male, but it was impossible to be sure of this unless you knew them- for they looked exactly alike. Blonde, blonde hair was pulled back in the same fashion his was, only their long pony tails reached down past their knees. Also, unlike his hair, their's was slightly wavy, and thus the hair that could not pulled back fell in soft ringlets around their faces, rather than in graceful layers like Dawson's own black hair. But everything else, the children's eyes, nose, lips, jaw, and body charateristics were miniature doubles of Dawson's own features.

"Are they," Dawson managed to choke out through the tears that were suddenly streaming down his face. It wasn't really a question.

Braden answered anyway. Smiling softly, he whispered, "Aye, that they are."

Dawson's tears came flowed down harder. He dropped down to his knees. "Reverto ut mei ego mei liber!" He cried out. " Return to me my children!"

It took all of five seconds for the children to run into Dawson's outstreched arms. "It has been too long, mei liber, too long." Dawson choked out between sobs. "Five years, two months, and twenty-one days have passed since I saw you last, mei liber, and I have not stopped thinking of you. Oh, mei liber!"

Braden was on the verge of tears himself. David would be pleased at how he had handled the reunion. And at how Dawson handled the reunion. He was not denying his relation to the children, thank the gods, and it looked and sounded as though he had wanted this for a very long time. Yes, David would be pleased at his child's happiness. Braden was happy that Dawson was happy too, but he was even more pleased that he had gotten the two babes out of the Sanctuary without complications. It had been difficult, yes, but at least the children were safe now, within Dawson's caring arms. The child would never let the babes go again. Braden was quite sure of that.

"Braden," Dawson spoke softly as to not wake the already sleeping children within his arms. "Are they named?"

Braden grinned broadly. The children had not been named, because they had not been willing. A vampiric child must be willingly accept a name before it is to be called by that name. "Nope. You get that pleasure for yourself," Braden said, with a touch of amusement in his voice.

Dawson smiled lightly. "Were they hurt?" There was much pain in the child's voice. So much pain. Braden winced at the sound.

"No, Dawson. No one ever dared to touch them. They've been starved, but a few good meals should fix that," Braden paused, and looked Dawson up and down, taking in his protective stance over his children, his arms coiled around thier waists, but somehow he had gotten them into a position in which he was the only one uncomfortable. The boy was definately going to be a good parent. "You do know that they have full Vampiric blood in them, don't you, Dawson?"

Dawson smiled faintly. "Yes of course. And I embrase it," Dawson nuzzled his son's neck happily.

"And you know that means that you will have to take your inheritance as well?" Braden brased himself for the angered hiss, but it didn't come. Instead, a soft voice called out lightly, "Of course. And I also embrase that."

Braden did not have to ask if the boy knew what that meant. He knew that the boy knew. Instead, he watched as Dawson finally allowed his fangs to break through his gums. He watched as the boy's hair grew nearly a foot longer, and how the boy grew a shade paler. This just made the boy even more breathtaking.

Dawson winced as he felt himself grow yet another inch. He winced again as his stomach growled for what he would soon need to drink regularly to keep alive. He felt his senses sharpen dramatically, allowing him knowledge that he'd never had before. Then, what he had been waiting for happened. For one, his connection with his children grew even stronger, to a point where he could feel their heart beats if he chose to. Secondly, his connection with his mate opened. It was still weak, and he did not know who it was, but he was positive that he had never met the person before. And he knew it was male. The young vampire shuddered involantarily. Oh god, he thought, as he found one more piece of information on his mate. He's a Veela, Dawson noted. This scared him, and comforted him at the same time. When he and his mate came into their full inheritences, and find out each other's identities, then his mate would not be able to reject the twins, not that it was likely anyway, most are intellegable enough to know that born Vampires are the children of their mother and his/her mate. Even without intercourse between the two.

Dawson smiled into his daughter's hair, letting sleep claim him. The strain of letting his Vampiric blood take it's role after all these years had been strenuous, if not exceedingly painful.

_Well, my life will, if anything, be very interesting from now on,_ was Dawson's last thought before he fell asleep, unconciously casting powerful shield charms on himself and his children. No one, _no one_, would ever take his children away from him again.

Braden watched as Dawson slept, shielding his children with his body and his magic. Braden knew that telling Dawson his Vampiric inheritance increased his magic fifty times over would not be fun. The child was already incredibly strong wizard without his inheritance, but now the child was one of the strongest wizards in the world.

Braden had to use all his willpower not to give into the intoxicating smell of the child's magic. It was the sweetest thing he had ever encountered, making him feel slightly dizzy. Braden left the room before the scent drove him into insane.

Once situated comfortably in the kitchen, armed with a cup of coffee, cookies, and a book on child vampires, Braden relaxed, and began to read up on the information he had long since forgotten. The Gods knew that he'd need it.

SLASHPAIRINGISTOOOBVIOUSFORMETOGIVEUPHERE

David's heart thuded in expectation as he glided through the streets of North London. He was nearly three hours late for his meeting with Braden, and that meant that Dawson had 'met' his children without him. That meant that Dawson probably still rejected his vampiric inheritance. It meant that Dawson probably had also rejected the children. David was, needless to say, very angry at himself.

David stopped a few feet away from the entrence of his shop. He looked up at the familiar building, a small smile appearing on his face, despite the horrible circumstances. The whole building was looked around a three centries old, most of it was boarded up, looking very unpresentable. Compared to the rest of the magnificent street, his small shop looked as out of place as a cockaroach would in cotton candy.

Even so, the whole building was decorated delicately, with careful details- making all the difference. The building was three stories high- the first being his shop, the second a living space for he and his son, and the third had four large bedrooms.

Despite the flimbsy construction of the building, the structure was painted a soft grey, with blue outlines around the doors and windows. The boards that held together some of the more decayed features of the building were pained white, and had careful designs drawn on them.

The whole effect was rather breath taking really. But what was most amazing was that there was not one paint chip, not one mistake, athough only one person had worked.

And this person hadn't used magic.

Dawson was truly talented.

David began to feel anxious again at the thought of his son. The tinted windows had not allowed him to peek at the damage done before he entered, so David had no idea what might have happened. David took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, before curling his fingers around the metal doorhandle.

When he opened the door and peered inside his anchient shop, he almost wept in relief. There sat Dawson, holding two of the most beautiful children the world had ever seen. Pearly white fangs peeked out of Dawson's mouth. Onyx claws apeared at the tips of his elegant fingers. His legs appeared to be a bit longer, and his features were even paler. David gasped as his eyes lingered over his son's face. It was more sculpted, but even more even more effeminate than before. He was the most beautiful thing that David had ever seen.

David's own inheritance had had similar effects, but he had never been as lovely as his son now was. Also, David noticed that his child's magic was now the strongest that he had ever been around. It was a good thing that vampires weren't effected by magical presence, or he might have pounced on Dawson right there and then. David closed the door, which had been open as he stared at his son. Locking up for the night, he couldn't help but hum a tune softly, and he surely couldn't help the huge smile off his face.

He climbed the stairs up to his apartment, smelling fresh coffee, he smiled warmly, and headed over to the kitchen.

Sighting Braden at the kitchen table, he moved to sit down across from the man that he saw as his father. He had been the one to take him in and raise him after he had been turned, and left out on the streets at age four. He had been the one to supply him with blood. He had been the one to get him this shop. He had been the one to get him all the buisness that now left him in the most extensive trade circle in London. He had been the one to give him Dawson. He had given him a son. He had taught him love. He had been a father. He had been a friend. He always would be.

Tears threatened to excape from between David's eyelids as he placed a hand over Braden's to notify the dozing senior of his presence. Braden's eyes fluttered open, and he smiled, sqeezing his old friend's hand before pulling away.

"You see-" Braden started, but then abruptly stopped himself, looking down at the book in front of him. Looking at the page, the man's eyes widened, and wordlessly handed the book over to David.

Confused, David stared down at the book, it was a copy of _Beautiful Children_, a book for child vampires and their parents. It was opened up to a directory that listed all the vampires in the immediate area, just in case said child reading the book was abandoned by it's sire or bloodmother. Braden was pointing at the middle of the page, under David's address. Even more confused, Dawson looked down, expecting to see his and his son and the twins' names. Reading it over, Dawson gasped, not so unnerved by what he didn't see, Dawson was hardly his son's real name, but what he _did _see.

**56783 CARRETTE RD., NORTH LONDON**

**DAVID ADLI ABRASHA MELANCTON, 36**

**UNNAMED, 5**

**UNNAMED, 5**

**HARRY JAMES POTTER (ADOPTED NAME: DAWSON ALAND MAXWELL MELANCTON), 15**

David nearly swallowed his tounge, and Braden almost fainted for the second time that night.

_**Chapter Two**_

"What are we going to do!" David nearly shouted as he paced about the room.

Braden was still sitting, but he was in the same state of mind as his friend. "But what of the scar, David? Dawson does not bear it."

"Vampric blood heals curse scars. Oh gods, what are we going to do? Voldemort can not win this war. The Light side needs Harry Potter to achive this. Dawson is Harry Potter. My son, oh gods, is Harry Potter..." David fell to the ground, shaking.

Braden stood, and walked carefully over to the one that he thought of as his son, wincing as the floor made contact with his bad leg. He kneeled beside David, and enveloped the young man inside his arms. The man looked nothing of his years, his muscular frame looked to be maybe sixteen years in age- the time when he had decided to stop aging.

"I'll contact Dumbledore," Braden whispered into David's long red hair, as the younger sobbed into his elder's chest. David kept a strong hold around Braden's body, clinging to him like his last life line. He had a Hebrew element; Earth, which included powers of strength and elemental control, while Dawson had an English element; Hypnotics, the most powerful of the elements, for it could control all. While Dawson's color features displayed this, David's color features displayed his element. Blood red hair, and bright blue eyes; he could also freckle and tan, something most vampires could not do.

Even with all the differences between David and Dawson, the did share one feature. Because they were from the same clan(even if they _were_ exciled), Black Flower, they had the ablity to control shadows, but what was even more curious was that they could control _night._ Darkness.

Black Flower was the most powerful Vampirc clan for a reason. Originated in Greece, therefore a Greek element, nothing could control a Black Flower. Not even a sea of others.

So, when David had turned Dawson(Harry? ...Oh god...) he had been sure that the child would be safe from all harm. Now he was almost sorry that he had done it. What if this interfered with this destiny? David groaned into Braden's shirt.

"Shhh David," Braden whispered, "Lets think this thing out. Prophesies are always carried out, so don't worry about that, my child. Dumbledore will know what to do about this, I'm sure of it. Albus has as sure mind. Now, Dawson is already thoroughly trained in Light, Dark, and Neutral magic, I made sure of that, I may be a Muggle but I know more about the Magical world that most of them do. The twins must be Greek Hypnotics, closely related to English Hypnotics, that's probably why they have almost all Dawson's features. We'll get Dawson a wand, and send him to Hogwarts. His mate is probably there anyway. We'll want to keep his wandless ability secret, for it is not a usual Black Flower trait. We should have known from his Parseltoungue, but Salazar's son was turned, so it isn't your fault. Dawson will live and succeed though this. You'll see, my son, you'll see. Everything will turn out fine. This isn't just any child we have here," Braden grinned, "This is Dawson, our Dawson, our Dawson that could have probably beat Voldemort for the second time when he was four. The fact that Dawson is a Potter means nothing. Everything will turn out fine. You'll see, my child, you'll see..."

Braden still rocked his child-figure back and forth in his arms, but Dawson was now visibly calmed down.

"Thank you, Braden. Thank you so much," Dawson murmered as he pressed a kiss to Braden's forehead. "I don't know what I would do without you, old man," he muttered before standing and helping the senior to his feet as well.

Braden smiled sadly. "Now all we have to do is tell our boy."

"Tell me what?" Asked a sleepy voice from the hallway. Dawson stood in the stairwell, carrying both his children on his hips, something he hadn't been able to do for too long. When he was ten, Black Flower had demanded he mate,(Something David was incapable of doing) and they had sent another of their own to do so with him. Dawson had bore the twins, for a reason Dawson still didn't understand, and then, out of cruelty, Black Flower had taken the babes from him, right from the maturnity bed. Finally, five years later, Braden had managed to get inside the Black Flower Sanctuary, and retrive the children for Dawson- soon after the teen had given up hope. Now that he had been reunited with his children, he would never let them go; especially after the horrifying experience of losing his bits for a short time during the delivery.

Dawson chuckled. "So?" He asked, analyzing the emotions on his sire's and Braden's faces. Fear was a big one.

David glanced at his father figure, who took the twins, before motioning for Dawson to sit down. Taking a deep breath, he blurted, "You're Harry Potter."

Two hours, lots of tears, three hugging men, reassuring words, sobbing crys, furious yelling, and cautious acceptance later, Dawson could be found sitting in his father's lap infront of the fire place in the den, waiting for Albus Dumbledore's head to appear in the now green flame. Braden sat beside them. The whole living area was done in blacks, browns, and other dark earthtones, contrasting with the kitchen's completely white and blue scheme.

The twins had been placed on the couch almost right after the discussion had began, and were still snuggled into the the rich black leather.

The three men in front of the fire sat in a comfortable silence, relaxing on the soft carpet, until a head abruptly appeared in the fireplace.

"Gentlemen, good evening. I am sorry it took so long for me to get to the fireplace, but it is quite late. May I ask how you got the Fire Call powder?"

"This Muggle does buisness with all, Albus. This will be a shock, so please prepare yourself. This is my foster son, David. He sired this lovely young chap here, who we call Dawson, but you would call Harry James Potter."

Albus Dumbledore's face accostomed a look of pure shock for a split second before his features smoothed over. "Is he now?"

"The curse scar was healed when he was turned. But if you must, check his magical signature. I can swear on any oath that you want, hell, I'd even agree to Veritaserum, but we just found out tonight of his first identity. I know of the prophesy, I've know of it for quite awhile, and I know of Voldemort's return. I most certainly not plan on this, for if I had, David would have murdered me. In fact, tonight we just reuntied the lad with his children. We had other plans- but Lord Voldemort can not win this war, and he will without this child. He needs to learn wizardry(Dawson's lips quirked for a moment, but no one else noticed) and we need you for that. David and I do not trust Beauxbatons, gods forbid Durmstrang. The only reasonable choice left is Hogwarts."

Dumbledore was twinkling and smiling, eyes focused entirely on Dawson. "Has he accepted his Pre-Full Inheritance?"

"Just tonight," David answered, feeling like a child, for he was not the one to stand for Dawson ultimately.

"Children, you said?"

"I bore twins on my eleventh birthday," Dawson answered, looking bored, but his heart was actually racing. He was privately thinking that he would probably be a Ravenclaw if Dumbledore accepted him to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Dumbledore looked stricken. "Really? Dawson, is it? Yes. Would it be possible for you and your... guardians... and your... children... to Floo over immediately? It's Hogwart's Office."

"That would be fine," Dawson answered after consulting the look on Braden's face.

Getting up, he walked over to the couch and gathered his children to him. Dumbledore's face had already disappeared. "Ready, Da? Braden?"

The two men nodded, and together, as they had always done before, they stepped into the fireplace. Braden shouted, "HOGWART'S OFFICE!"

All five beings in the fireplace dissappeared.

Albus Dumbledore, in all his one hundred and seventy-eight years had never been more relived then when Mr... Braden? firecalled him. Harry Potter was _alive_! He was a part of the Black Flower clan! He _must_ be powerful. And just in time he came to save the day, too. The Light Side was not doing so well in the war, and Albus was having real trouble keeping his school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, open. He sighed. No, Mr. Potter, or would it be Mr. Melancton, ... couldn't have shown his face at a more perfect time.

Brooding about plans, and nervously anticipating, though he tried not to show it, Harry's arrival, Albus nearly forgot about Sirius and Remus. Ever since Lily and James' death, they had been searching the globe for a certain black-haired, green-eyed boy. And now he has been found. Albus metally called Fawkes, his phoenix, to his office. The firebird was just off the coast of Australia, but it wouldn't take long for the anchient bird to return. Three seconds to be exact. Albus stroked his bird's warm feathers, and attached a note to his leg, which stated a simple message. _He's back._ After kissing Fawkes on the beak, Albus lightly pushed him into the air. The bird knew who to go to.

The anchient wizard sat back down at his desk, nevously surveying his office as he tapped his fingers against his desk. He had conjured three large, comfortable but firm chairs in black leather, along with two small cushioned rocking chairs to sit in front of his large wooden desk. Albus stared at his fireplace across the room, and did not even flinch when four beautiful beings and one... old... being gracefully, walked, or limped, in the case of the old one, out of the fireplace. The one that was said to be Harry had a fixed blank smirk on his face, one that could rival Mr. Malfoy's. In his arms, true to his words of children, were two small beings. The redheaded boy, who apparently wasn't that much of a boy, continually sent ancious looks at the olden man standing next to him, a hand firmly placed on his shoulder. The olden man looked, well, bored. Albus suspected that the muggle knew just as much about magic as he himself did.

"Albus, my dear man. You're looking well," Braden bowed respectively, knowing that he wasn't exactly using wizarding conversing skills, although he knew them, but he was but a muggle in the eyes of this man. A helpless muggle. Braden did not wish to soil this view and more then he already had. It was too valuable.

Albus smiled. "Thank you. And thank you for contacting me. Dawson, David, Braden, I presume, please sit down. I conjured two chairs for the children as well, if you would feel so inclined as to use them."

Dawson, who Albus hoped against hope was the Harry James Potter that had been missing for nearly fifteen years, delicately directed a soft, grateful look at him.

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," the child spoke as he set his stirring, but not quite awake children down in the given chairs directly in front of Dumbledore's desk, before primly bowing and sitting between the already sitting Braden and David.

"Mr...Albus," David spoke hesitantly. He sounded nervous, scared, anxious, like a first year on their first day of potions class with Professor Snape. "How will you test to see if my son is who we say he is?"

"Jumping to the point, are you now, my son?" Albus chuckled. "There isn't much point in dragging out something so simple, is there?"

David flushed, like the redhead he so was. "No, sir."

"Well, I'll be using the spell, _Exhibeo Exibeo Tui Verus Appello, _roughly translated to-"

"Show your true name, we know. Forgive me, _sir, _but I have much to do tonight. My babes need to be named, and I need to concentrate on finding my mate," Dawson said, now bitter with the old man after he had insulted David. "Also, if I am to school here this year, then there are many arrangements that need to be made, such as if my mate isn't found immediately then I will have to either hunt or feed off my children, which I refuse to do, for blood. As I was not born a vampire, my stomach will take at least a year to mature enough to not need blood as a daily meal. Secondly, I refuse to leave my children home. They will need to come with me, and they will need to feed not so often as I, but still once a month. I am starving," Albus flinched slightly, "and I suspect that my babes are too. I need my questions answered after you preform the spell, so please do not waste my time with your petty analogies that Braden has said you are so famous for. With all due respect, Professor Dumbledore, I don't trust you anymore then I do the local drug dealers. You will have to earn my trust. So, if you would, Professor, preform you spell, give me my information, sort me if you would, and don't you dare try to set me up into staying with someone other then my father."

Albus swallowed hard. How had the child known what he was going to do? He hadn't even started hinting yet.

Braden looked proud, and David shot his son an admonishing, but at the same time, worshipping look. The twins were still attempting to open their tiny eyelids, and Albus, well, Albus just looked terrified.

Last but not least, beautiful, sweet Dawson had a deadly aura around him that would scare any man, woman, witch or wizard.

Albus managed to stutter out, "_Exhibeo Exibeo Tui Verus Appello," _barely noticing that he needed his wand, he was so stricken. In front of Dawson the name _Harry James Potter_ carved itself into the air in large, bold green letters. Dawson's magical aura, which he had just figured out how to control, showed it's full magical power, glowing onyx behind his fingertips where his retracted claws lay, in his gums, where his fangs are, behind his eyes, and at a controlled amount, his throat. Albus was surprised at this, the child did appear to know magic.

He was also relieved. Harry Potter was alive.


End file.
